Little Red Riding Hood: The Real Story
by Aurora of the Light
Summary: At this very moment everything you’ve heard, everything you’ve been spoon fed about me needs to be forgotten. I need to tell my story, the real story of Little Red Riding Hood, because I am sick of being portrayed as defenseless and naive... R
1. Preface

_Preface_

At this very moment everything you have heard, everything you have been spoon fed about me needs to be forgotten. I need to tell my story, the real story of Little Red Riding Hood, because I am sick of being portrayed as defenseless and naive. I need to right the wrong my sister, my despicable younger sister, cast upon me. And I need to do so through you, so that the world may finally hear the truth.

I am writing this as my last will and testament, a documentary about my life and how it came to pass. I am ensuring that future generations of my family, and of those who have been misled, may know that I was not some pathetic little girl who was tricked and then eaten by a wolf. I was never used as a tool.

I had been a teenager, at least in the eyes of my people, and I had fallen in love with the so-called Big Bad Wolf. My intentions had been innocent. I had followed my heart into the arms of a werewolf, the mortal enemies of my race, and I chosen to stay there. I chose to stay where I could escape the cruelties of my people.

Every mistake I made in that wretched fairy tale was a choice I made in the true course of my life, choices that I still do not regret to this very day.

I am getting ahead of myself though. Forgive me.

My name is Sienna Giordano and I fear that my choice, no matter how happy I may be with it, has had dire consequences. I may have placed the lives of my family and those of my future generations at risk all in the name of love.

You are probably more than confused right now so I will give you the information you need to proceed forward with the whole of my tale.

I was born into the magical faction of the Fair Folk, or more commonly known as the Fay. They are immortal beings defined by their use of the four natural elements: earth, wind, water, and fire. They are creatures born from the earth herself and blessed with beauty beyond compare, destined to roam the Realm of the Living for all eternity unless some tragedy were to fall on their head. Within my old faction there are eleven races, each with their own abilities, temperaments, and appearances. One of which were the elves, a race dedicated to the earth goddess and all that came with her worship. This was the race I was born to, the race that hated me for what I was.

To be specific about my heritage I was the second born child, first born daughter, to an Elvin Queen. Her name had been Lady Alarice Giordano and my mother has been hailed one of the greatest rulers our race had ever seen, if only because she had led a Holocaust that had almost succeeded in wiping out a large portion of the werewolf race. There are ballads dedicated to her greatness, her beauty, and her kindness. I remembered her in a different light, a darker light.

She had been a source of suffering to me, a constant reminder that her people neither accepted nor wanted me. She had allowed her crown to be ripped from me, where it had inevitably been given to my demon of a sister. I had lost my claim to the crown for one simple reason: I had been different. I had not fit the mold that all elves were expected to conform to.

Again I am giving too much away. I apologize. Speaking of my old life always brings out a certain, smoldering ember of anger within me. It still does not make sense to me. I willingly left my home to join a werewolf pack because I was unwanted and due to my decision I was labeled as a traitor.

However, is it truly traitorous to place the wants of your heart above your people as long as no one is harmed?

I had never understood, and I guess I will never understand the distorted thoughts of my old race.

Since you are probably beyond bored with my ranting by now I shall begin my story, but I warn you that there is no happily ever after for me. My life is not the lightest of tales, nor is it the happiest but it is my reality.

Like it is with all stories you must start at the beginning to understand the ending. Although in order to fully understand the predicament of my life you must go back to the night I was born. The night I unknowingly became the first and last of my race to break the mold.

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Sooo... I started writing this as an english project and add to it whenever I don't feel like working on the other projects I have. This is a side writing piece... so please don't expect this to be updated regularly.

Review!

_Aurora of the Light_


	2. Prologue

_Prologue_

Her snow-white skin crawled as she entered the confines of the Maple Queen's palace. Ivy and other creeping plants clung to the walls in a suffocating manner. The grand windows were nearly choked of all light by the thickness of the foliage. Even the floor seemed to resonate with the air of an overcrowded forest, the vital roots of the vines clung to the crevices where the marble floor met the emerald walls and also wound through the natural grooves of the white stone.

Where had all of the life gone? Or was there any life to be found in an Elvin court? From what she had observed the elves came across as being cold enough to pass for corpses. Especially when their nobles all met, dressed in clothes spun from silk and decorated with enough jewels and silver to make any of the Roman Emperors pant and beg.

She clenched her fists, allowing for her claw-like nails to dig into her flesh. The elves deserved to be destroyed especially after what they had done to her children, after they had destroyed so many families and killed so many in cold blood. What was their justification for being such heartless murderers? They had none. They simply wanted to slaughter her children to further their own means.

They were more beastly than the children they had robbed from her.

She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts. Floor length hair the color of midnight fell across her face. She could not allow for her bias and anger to continue. She was a goddess after all, if she became as angry as her children, the Children of the Moon were, then the conflict created by the Children of the Earth would only intensify.

Although she could not help but acknowledge the fire of hate that burned in her belly, she felt what her children felt because to them she was life and light. It was to her that the Shifters all prayed when they were in danger. She understood their anger because they chose to share it with her.

The other magical faction, the Shifters those that pledged themselves to the magic of the moon and the haunting allure of the night. As their name suggested they shifted into the shapes of beasts born from the nightmares of humankind.

She did not bother brushing the loose strands out of her face. She found the stars twinkling in the blackness of her hair comforting. They also served as a distraction to keep her mind off of the hatred within her. She needed their familiarity to settle her nerves.

_You did not have to go_. The growling voice of her mate, the Lord of the Hunt chastised. She brushed his comment away. There was a child that she needed to bless, a child that could possibly put a stop to the senseless war raging between the elves and her children. Nothing was going to stop her.

As if she were nothing more than air, the inhumanly beautiful woman floated through a pair of tall and lavishly decorated oak doors that led to the royal bedroom. The occupants of the room were asleep and their seven-year-old son was curled up at the foot of the giant bed.

She drifted over to the edge of the bed, the black train of her dress swaying behind her. The scent of damp soil and decaying leaves assaulted her nose. Her gaze drifted upwards and an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia consumed her. The ceiling of the room was nothing more than the roots of a mighty tree.

She was a being born of the sky, free and wild. Being underground, or even inside robbed her of that and knowing that the roots of a tree loomed over her head made her anxious.

In an effort to distract herself from her fear she delicately ran her fingers over the child's forehead, brushing a lock of hair out of his face. He was so young. It was hard for her to believe that he would one day become a murderer to her children. She shook her head again. The child and his future siblings would change the war. They would end it. Her blessing was going to make sure of that.

The child's eyes fluttered, she brushed it off as nothing more than a bad dream, but then his eyes shot open. The goddess pulled her hand away from the boy as if she had been burned. His eyes, the exact color green of a new spring, studied her pale face with a startling alertness.

"Who are you?" He asked his voice barely above a whisper. The woman let a smile play across her face. The expression softened her blue-gray eyes in a way meant to comfort the child. He returned the smile.

"I am the Lady of the Moon," She replied, her tone mild with distaste. The boy's eyes widened. She hated that with her rank of goddess there came a certain sense of awe and reverence whenever it was uttered. Even her own children revered her in a way that made her uncomfortable and she thought that it was more than a little unhealthy. She was a simple observer, a teacher. She only intervened when circumstances made it necessary. She was not a being to be worshiped.

He extended his hand and she grasped his forearm as all elves did in greeting. "I am Silas Giordano, son of Lady Alarice and Lord Cassius. If you do not mind my asking, what are you doing here?"

The Lady of the Moon shuddered; even the Elvin children were forced to be well mannered in the way of court life. It wasn't natural. "I came for your mother. Do you wish to help me?" Silas nodded, his auburn and blonde hair, colors that reminded her of an autumn touched forest, bounced with the motion. He grasped her hand and leapt from the bed.

She moved towards the head of the luxurious bed, almost grimacing with disgust. Did they have to flaunt their wealth so immodestly? The size of the bed alone was enough for her to see the pure righteousness in her children's hatred of the Fay but the addition of the rich, red satin sheets was too much.

She could just as easily bless the children as she could kill the war at its source. The destruction of the Maple Kingdom was a small price to pay when compared to the hundreds that had already fallen into the arms of her mate. Killing the elves would be simple, as effortless as squashing a particularly annoying bug.

The Maple Queen appeared in the goddess's line of vision. The expression on Lady Alarice's toasted gold face was peaceful, almost as if she were dead already. The goddess flinched when she saw the silvery, maple leaf tattoos, a mark that all elves wore, framing the queen's cheekbones and running down her face to disappear beneath the covers. Silver was a sacred color to her and her children. How could the Fay's deities disrespect her like this?

Alarice's long, rich chestnut and auburn hair fanned out on her pillow. The bulge of her impregnated belly was the only part of her body that was not hidden under the thick red sheets.

The goddess brushed her fingers across the queen's cheek. It would be only too simple to end the Elvin woman's life. She was a nothing after all; compared to the Lady of the Moon she was but a pawn in the great game, a sacrificial pawn at that.

_We cannot interfere_. The snarling mind noise of the Lord of the Hunt snapped the goddess of her trance. _You are too empathetic to our children's emotions_. _ This is not our fight_. A small pressure on her cold, pale hand only furthered her retreat from the dark thoughts. She could not leave Silas without his parents, no matter how horrible they may be. Too many children had been robbed of that already.

"Do not worry. Mommy will be happy to see you." The goddess highly doubted that. An adult elf would rather set her on fire than welcome her with open arms.

She tightly gripped Silas's hand, her other hovered above Alarice's swollen belly. She gathered a trace of her magic and trailed her fingers gently along the queen's abdomen. The blessing thrummed in her veins and turned silver when it hit the air. She was gifting the children, both unborn and breathing, because they were the most malleable in accepting her magic, their minds had not yet been tainted by the bias of their parents.

In the hand that Silas held a similar endowment was being given. Both children would bear her blessing, and both would have the influence to stop the senseless killing on both sides. She was not doing this for her children alone. It was beneficial for all beings involved.

When her gathered magic had dissipated she turned and crouched down next to the Elvin prince, her black dress gathered around her, billowing across the moon washed floor. "Silas," She sighed, her voice encouraging him to listen. He turned his spring-filled eyes on the goddess. "This shall be a secret between us, do you understand?"

The boy nodded sleepily, his fists rubbing circles in his tired eyes. The comforting warmth of the Lady of the Moon's voice washed over him in waves of calming power. He smiled slightly before his eyes slid shut and his body went limp. The pale woman gently gathered him in her arms and placed the child back where he'd once lain. By all appearances her visit would be no more real than a dream.

She gazed at the young child, a sense of longing dancing in her eyes. How long would it take for his blessing to take hold? In one of her own she would know, but the Fay aged at such a slow rate that it was impossible for her to tell. Normally it would activate once its host had reached maturity, which translated to them being sixteen, but what was mature with the Fay? They were such an old race that the laws of time and the natural flow of things seemed to bypass them completely.

The biggest question on her mind was for how much longer would the pointless war have to last? She sighed. A million soft sounds of the night broke forth with her small breath. It had only been minutes since she had loosed her magic on the children and already her impatience was eating away at her.

_It will take time_, _love_. _Be patient_. Her mate's voice caressed the longing from her. He was right, patience, no matter how dull, could only be rewarded. With one last wistful look at the sleeping child, the raven-haired woman turned her pale face to a large window in the room and disappeared into the light of the moon, leaving only an echoing whisper of her presence in the room.

With the goddess's departure came a pained cry from the Maple Queen. Her pregnancy was over. The child was coming.

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Main character's point of view will come next chapter.

Review.

_Aurora of the Light_


	3. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

"Come Sienna. The Council wishes to see us." My mother called from the arched doorway of the ballroom. I only felt a slight tingling of wrongness with that statement.

The Council had just spoken to me at my forty-third birthday party two days ago. I did not look my age, of course, by all appearances I only looked to be about sixteen, but among the elves, and the Fair Folk in general, appearances were always deceiving. My mother was a great example of this, she was nearing her one hundred-thirteenth birthday but she did not look a day over twenty.

I ignored the nagging feeling, preferring not to think about it. If the stuffy old goats on the Council wanted to speak with Mother and me than I had no choice but to oblige them. The rules of courtesy called for my politeness.

I rolled off of the throne I had been slouching in and daintily rose to my feet. Silas groaned from his own place on Father's throne, we had just been wrestling and I had managed to break quite a few of his ribs.

He would be fine. Most of them had probably healed already. Although our game had come with a very unpleasant consequence: our little sister, Ambra's shrill screaming. My ears were still ringing.

I lightly punched Silas's shoulder, in a dramatic act he fell off the throne and rolled on to the floor. "Mother, I think Sienna killed me."

I stuck my tongue out at him, and ran to Mother's side. She smiled, an expression that was becoming rare to find on her tired face. "Silas, it is time for your training lessons with Lord Cassius." Immediately my brother sobered up, saluted, and rushed to the armory to meet Father. He was such a clown.

"May I come with you, Mother?" Ambra asked, her voice as sweet as could be. I glanced at Mother, pleading with her to say no. Since the Council had been pressuring her to officially proclaim the heir apparent Ambra had been trying to outdo me in everything, and I meant everything.

Over the last few weeks my sister had been attached to my side like a parasite. She was trying to win everyone over to get the crown. Even though I had the first claim, being the first daughter. She was such a snake.

Mother shook her head, a graceful movement that made the silver circlet on her head slip. "No, Ambra. This is between the Council and your sister."

My sister moaned and pouted. I ducked behind Mother. Ambra was about to throw a tantrum. "Why do they still want to speak with _her_?" She jabbed a finger in my direction. "She has already been dethroned so why do they still wish to speak with her?" I felt her words like a slap, was she speaking the truth? Had I really been stripped of my birthright?

I would be the first to admit that I was not exactly the prime candidate for a calm and calculating leader. I had a short temper and tended to act on my impulses, but my personality quirks should not have been enough to completely dethrone me.

My sister's tirade continued. "They should just face it! _You_ should just face it! Your perfect _little Sienna_ lost and now the crone is _**mine**_!"

The earth beneath our feet began to quiver as Ambra's anger grew. She was more psychotic than I thought if she believed that Mother would stand for her disrespect.

With a twitch of her slender fingers Mother stilled the trembling floor and sent her throne flying in Ambra's direction. Mother's rich green eyes blazed with fury, her jaw was clenched.

"If you want my throne so badly than take it," Mother hissed. The words were laced with an impossible amount of malice.

I winced as her power expanded and began to wrench the eight silver hoop earrings from my flesh. Even my silver armband was beginning to bend out of shape and dig into my bicep.

The throne slammed into Ambra, knocking her to the tiled floor.

I glanced at Mother, the diamond centerpiece of her circlet was starting to distort with the force of her magic. I could feel it thrumming against my skin, smothering me.

"Mother!" Ambra shrieked. Tears of terror were streaking down her face. The silver pattern of her tattoos, twin ribbons of maple leaves that mimicked Mother's exactly, looked terribly harsh against her paling face. I tried to wrench my gaze away, to convince myself that she deserved what was coming, but could not.

I needed to stop Mother. She had gone too far.

Unlike my siblings, parents, and every other elf in existence, I had been born without the ability to summon and manipulate the earth. I was an anomaly. I had, however, inherited a different gift, a darker gift: I controlled death. It was a magic that only the mongrel Shifters had possessed until now.

Death magic roared within me, whispering in corrupted riddles and promises of my unavoidable demise. Darkness spilled from me and crept through the ballroom like a bank of fog. It silenced Mother's power and forced her to her knees.

The warm, suffocating presence of earth magic fled from the room. It was quickly replaced by the cold and crushing weight of death magic. It ebbed out of me in tidal waves that cracked my will and choked the life from the living.

I struggled to lock it away again. It shrieked at my defiance, trying to claim dominance over my body. I fought harder against it. The siren call of its limitless powers was irresistible.

The magic was going to break me. I could feel it deep within my bones. Small parts of me were already bending to its will.

Darkness swallowed me. Panic clenched my throat. What would become of me once it had taken over? That fear made me claw towards the small glimmer of light among the sea of darkness.

After a few long moments I succeeded in breaking free from my magic's hold. My victims did not look too pleased by my lapse in control.

Ambra's eyes were wide with fright, but she appeared somehow satisfied. "That—that so called _gift_," She sneered the word, "Is why you lost the crown! You are death! You are evil! You should be locked away!" Her usually sweet and honey smothered voice was screeching in hysterics. High pitched enough to make me cringe.

I should have just let Mother kill her.

Disgust glowed in Mother's eyes. There was no hint of her earlier fury anywhere on her face. "Ambra! Leave my sight! _Now_!" She snapped, her voice echoing sharply in the empty chamber. My sister fled past us without a word.

From the outright terror in Mother's gaze I knew that I was in for it.

Ambra's words came back to me just before Mother could explode, she had allowed for the Council to rob me of my crown. How could she live with herself? My sister, the only other legitimate heir, was easily swayed into fits of malice and cruelty. Her reign would ruin us.

"Is it true? Has the Council truly removed my crown?" I whispered, too horrified by the thought of Queen Ambra to raise my voice.

Mother ignored the question and put me down instead. "You should not have used that hideous curse of yours. Its power is beneath us, and why our gods chose to grant it to you of all people is beyond me."

I grimaced at the verbal slap. Leave it to Mother to make me feel ashamed of myself. I realized that my magic was dangerous, that it was slowly killing me, and that it would not hesitate to destroy me, but I could not simply ignore it. My death magic's siren call was too strong for that course of action. Mother was wrong to blame me for the choice the gods had made. She was horrible for trying to place me at fault for something I could not control.

I felt my blood boil as her words sunk in. I was not going to stand for her insults. My temper exploded and seethed from me, almost as potent as my magic had been. "Do not change the subject! Answer me! Was Ambra speaking the truth?"

Her emerald eyes went wide with disbelief. She had never been the focal point of my anger before. "How dare you! I am your queen! I demand your respect!" There was no recognition in her gaze. It was true and she was already disowning me.

"Why?" Was all I could muster, tears were constricting around my throat. I bit back the emotional weakness quickly. "Why!" I demanded my voice quivered only slightly.

Mother slapped me, her hand leaving a stinging ache on my cheek. "Because you were nothing more than a mistake, Sienna. A big, ugly mistake that was never fit to take my throne." She was a million miles away from me now. I was no longer her flesh and blood. I was simply some whimpering child in her home, but she was not done robbing me yet. "From this day forth you are nothing more than a warrior noble living in my palace. All of your royal titles will be stripped from you, and neither you nor any of your future daughters will have any claim to my crown."

My jaw dropped. How could she do this to me? "But, Mother!"

She slapped me again, harder this time and with enough force to make me black out momentarily. I could taste the metallic sting of blood in my mouth. "I am _not_ your mother. I am Lady Alarice Giordano, daughter of Lady Orianna; Queen of the Maple Kingdom and you will address me as such. Do you understand?"

Her power bore down on me, forcing me to bow. "Yes, I understand, Your Majesty." My voice was dead, cold, reflecting exactly how I felt. How could she take everything from me like this?

"Good. Your training begins tomorrow at dawn. I will inform the Council of your cooperation and of Ambra's new position as the heir apparent. Good day." She swiftly turned her back on me and strode off towards the Parliament wing.

A question was still lying on the tip of my tongue, one she had ignored. "What is the true reason behind all of this?" I called after her. The sound echoed against the walls and rang in my ears. There was no way she could not have heard me.

Queen Alarice, I shuddered at the unfamiliarity of addressing her as such, simply rounded the corner and strode out of sight, paying no attention to me. I was left standing alone in the throne room. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to scream and throw a tantrum but I refused to let Ambra win. I would take my humiliation with my head held high.

To escape the silence I retreated into myself, a place where my death magic was waiting for me. Its sinister, lurking presence made my skin crawl with numbness.

_How could our people ever love a queen they feared_? _A queen who wields the same magic their enemies do, a queen who wields the ultimate end to all endings_. _How could any civilization trust death itself_? It hissed, its voice burning in my ears.

I pushed the voice back where it could fester and rot in the darkest corners of my mind for all I cared. And in that dark place I locked it away. I was never going to use it again.

My efforts did not matter though. Its words were already starting to crack my armor.

If my own people feared me then how could I blame the Council?

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Not much to say about this one...

Review.

_Aurora of the Light_


	4. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

A dark cloaked figure stalked through the smoky pub. His slouched shoulders presented a warning for all of the pleasantly drunk werewolves in the room: he was not to be messed with. The hulking, hooded figure reeked of aggression and dominance, though he skulked around with the nervous shuffle of a _very_ submissive wolf.

All of the males in the bar eyed him warily, and grabbed possessively for their women, all of who were too curious of the strange wolf than they had the right to be. He ignored them all, brushing past the crowded tables and leaving the clinging scent of a blood stained forest in his wake. The smell was familiar and welcoming to all in the room.

With a movement too graceful for one of his size the stranger slid onto a barstool.

"What can I get for you?" Gustav, the pub owner and a fairly high-ranking wolf in the pack, asked, his voice gruff but warm. The cloaked man simply shrugged, his shoulders falling back to slouch over the bar.

He shook the hood back from his face, the females in the room all gasped in wonder. The stranger was handsome, almost painfully so, but he was also young, very young. He was only in his early twenties but his face had been heavily weathered by the violence of many battles. He had only one scar that was visible to them; three claw marks that ran straight over his left eye. The rest of his premature age could be blamed on the unforgiving intensity of his expression, made only more severe by the paleness of his skin against his ink black hair.

Even Gustav, the Unshakable Gus as some liked to call him, seemed unnerved by the young man's complete lack of softness. In the haunted ice blue depths of the stranger's eyes there lurked the ferocity of one who had killed many times over.

"Water will be fine." Again the occupants of the pub were surprised. His voice was not as harsh as his looks let on. Instead it was light, carefree, and teasing. The type of voice they expected to hear coming from their sons, young wolves who'd never seen the horror of battle. The stranger was an oddity to them.

The front door of the pub was kicked open then, every wolf in the pub besides the stranger jumped.

Varick and Phoebe, the alphas of the Oak Forest Pack, strode through the doorway. The moment Phoebe laid her topaz eyes on the stranger they sparkled with delight.

The alphas were most definitely an attention grabbing pair. Varick was muscular where Phoebe was slight with curves that could make any male pant. She was dark where he was fair. He was also at least a foot taller than his mate. Their personalities contrasted in much of the same way. Varick kept all of his emotions off of his face and held them in his shoulders and jaw. Phoebe was of a simpler breed; all of her thoughts played across her stunning face and danced in her brilliant eyes.

Varick's subordinates all exposed their necks and bowed their heads as he passed. The stranger eyed the stone-faced alpha with an equally emotionless expression, though a trace of recognition lined his aged features.

Gustav glanced from the stranger to meet his alpha's iron gray gaze for only a brief moment before he placed the stranger's glass on the bar counter.

"Lucas!" Varick called. A serene mix of emotions released themselves across his face.

The stranger, Lucas elegantly swept across the room to embrace the alpha. Phoebe appeared giddy when she caught wind of Lucas's scent. The onlookers stared at their alpha, plainly confused. Who was the strange werewolf and how did Varick know him?

The alpha and the stranger broke apart. The only sign of their embrace were the arms slung across one another's shoulders. The alpha turned his attention on his anxious pack.

"I bet that you are all wondering who this is, right?" His question was met with a loud chatter of agreement. "Settle." They all did. He was their alpha; they had to obey him whether or not they wanted to. "Lucas would you like to introduce yourself?"

The stranger stepped forward, his hard face suddenly softening. "My name is Lucas Werner. I am a mercenary and a very old friend of Varick's." Chatter suddenly burst from the pack again.

This young man was Lucas Werner? _He_ was _the_ mercenary, _the_ Hunter of the werewolf community? There was no way. He was barely older than their eldest sons. How could he be the merciless Hunter, the mercenary who had slain thousands of the Fair Folk without an ounce of hesitation?

They all gave him another look, trying to confirm that Varick was joking. What they all saw in his arctic eyes sent a collective shudder through the room. They were lucky that they had heeded his warning.

There was the unmistakable stain of death in his eyes, he was the Hunter and from the stories their small gathering was nothing compared to what he normally had to deal with. The Hunter, they hesitated to call him Lucas, could take down an entire squadron of heavily armed elves within seconds. They did not want to imagine what he could do to the intoxicated fifty of them gathered in the pub, half of them could not see straight let alone stand.

"Settle." Varick barked again. Lucas retreated back to the barstool. His old friend could handle the pack without his help. "I called on an old favor that Lucas owed me. He's going to help us with our little infestation problem. With his help this war should end swiftly with us as the victors!" A cheer of approval swept through the pub, the occupants quickly began ordering drinks to celebrate the arrival of their trump card.

The Oak Forest Pack's alpha strode over to his old friend, a lopsided grin lighting up his face. "How have you been? It's been years."

Lucas shrugged. "Fine. I can't tell you much that you don't already know. News tends to travel fast when you kill a few hundred Fay."

"I'll bet. Since I've heard most of the stories, and you're probably sick of sharing them, we should just talk business." The alpha slapped the bar's counter to get Gustav's attention, but before he could speak Phoebe marched up to Varick's side. She shook her long, curly, chocolate brown hair so that it blew tendrils of her honey sweet scent straight into Lucas's face. Her back was turned so that the mercenary caught a spectacular view of her rear.

The Hunter shifted uncomfortably and glanced down at his glass.

"Varick?" Her voice was coercive as it whispered from her lips. "Why do wish to bore our guest with such talk?" She batted her eyes at the stranger in a flirtatious manner. Lucas inched away from her, completely put off. Did she have no shame? "He's probably exhausted from his long trip, why don't you let me take him to his room. I'll help him relax and get settled in…" Water sprayed from Lucas's mouth, and he choked on what remnants had not made it out with his shock.

Gustav grinned at the mercenary's reaction, the young man would get used to Phoebe's antics with time. "You okay there?" The bartender inquired, mopping up the mess with a rag.

Varick groaned, annoyed. "Phoebe, I need to speak with Lucas. Go entertain yourself with someone else for a while." With a huff his mate stalked off and plopped down on to the lap of a bewildered male wolf, then turned to glare at her mate. The alpha had never been known for her loyalty.

"Is she always like that?" Lucas asked, staring, wide eyed, after her. He would have pegged Varick as having better taste in women.

The alpha shrugged. "Most of the time? Yes. I don't mind it though. She's loyal and… well behaved when she has to be, plus I love her despite her… faults. Though you should be more worried about yourself. When she wants something she goes after it with teeth snapping and claws slashing."

"Huh." Was all the mercenary could muster. Maybe Varick did know what he was doing with his mate. When Phoebe caught him staring she winked, a gesture that she somehow managed to make obscene. He glanced away quickly, a slight blush staining his cheeks.

"Can we talk business now? I promised the Roman Empire that I'd help them with border control in five turns of the Lady's face. I'll stay longer if I'm needed, but if that comes to pass then I'll charge you for my services."

"Now's fine. Gus!" The bartender turned to his alpha, careful to keep his gaze down. It was a sign of submissiveness that even the proudest of wolves had to show. "Will you call Rebecca? She seems to ignore me every time I call, and I don't want to start ordering her around. The Lady only knows how irritable she gets when Phoebe does so."

With a small nod Gus closed his eyes and began to sway, he was using the telepathic link that all werewolf packs possessed. They could communicate over long distances through their wolf halves, and vice versa when they took their other forms. The call fell on Lucas's deaf ears. He was a lone wolf, severed from all bonds that could give him the sense of family the pack offered.

"Rebecca?" Lucas glanced at Varick, female wolves were hardly ever ranked high enough to join war conversations, and when they were they usually did not care to listen.

"She's our gamma," Third highest-ranking wolf in the pack, a spot usually occupied by a male. "She lost her mate in one of the earliest battles and hasn't shown any interest in taking another, in case you're wondering. I have no problem with her decision. She's the best tactics specialist we've ever had."

Gus chuckled. "You forgot to mention that she's also one of the scariest females our pack has ever had." Lucas gave him a skeptical look. "It's true. Just last week Phoebe commented on her temper, so Rebecca slammed her head into a table. And Sir High and Mighty here," He jerked a thumb at his alpha, "Was too intimidated to do anything about it."

Lucas caught a glimpse of Varick spreading his hands in an innocent gesture. "What can I say? The woman is terrifying, besides Phoebe was just as intimidated."

"She also had a broken nose."

The alpha in question glared over at the triad of men as if she had heard. Both Lucas and Varick tensed, Gus simply went back to cleaning his glass. They stayed silent, not wanting to push it with the dark haired vixen.

Just then a young woman burst through the door, gaining no attention from the happy drunks in the pub, Lucas was struck speechless by her. Braided butterscotch blonde hair with streaks of dark brown running through it fell to her waist. Bangs framed her heart shaped face and hung in her blue-honey eyes. She was short, barely reaching five feet, but she gave off the air of someone ten times her size. The mercenary had little doubt that she could pummel him in a fight.

"Told you." Varick whispered. Gus snorted and finally put the more than clean glass down. Lucas just tried to keep his tongue from falling out of his mouth.

Rebecca glided over to the bar, almost dancing her way around the crowded tables. She grabbed the chair out from under Phoebe's current distraction as she went. Both wolves fell to the floor in a tangled heap.

"That wasn't necessary." Varick grumbled the moment Rebecca pulled her stolen chair up to the bar.

The gamma shrugged. "Let's get to business, shall we?"

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Points of view will shit randomly through this... Sometimes it'll be Sienna and others it'll be Lucas. Hope you're enjoying the read.

Review.

_Aurora of the Light_


	5. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

"Pay attention, Sienna!" Lord Cassius, my father, chastised from the sidelines. I snapped back to awareness just in time to parry an attack. Lyra, one of my opponents, was knocked off balance by my quickness and stumbled backward. I seized the opportunity to further disable her with a kick to the ribs that sent her flying out of the ring. Her partner, Demetrius attacked me then.

His broad sword shimmered with a blinding brightness as the silver blade caught the light of the sun. I flipped backward, not bothering to shield my eyes because the blade was already arcing down in a slice that would have cut me from throat to navel. I landed in a crouch and sliced my own blade at his feet. He jumped, I pulled myself up and jabbed my blade at his chest.

Demetrius froze and dropped his sword.

Lyra walked into my line of vision, her sword was sheathed and she had an expression of surrender on her face. I was the winner, which was not a surprise. On my first day I had bested all of the warriors in my squadron in hand-to-hand combat alone, and my superiors had not been much more of a challenge. After two full turns of the moon even fighting the highest- ranking of warriors was becoming a bore.

"You win again," Lyra swept into a bow. I ignored her flourish and instead extended my arm. She grasped my forearm, we shook and I did the same with Demetrius before turning to my father. I was not trying to be rude. I just had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Am I ready for battle now?" I had been asking the same question since I had begun training. In my opinion I should have donned warrior's armor on my first day, I was wasting away here. All of my talents, not only with a sword and my fists but with every other weapon known to my kind as well, were going to waste. I was dying of boredom.

I sheathed my sword as Father walked up to meet me. "No." He said simply, brushing past me in an attempt to speak with Lyra and Demetrius. Every bit of rationality and self-control fled from me in that instant.

It was not fair! I was better than every other warrior in the kingdom, previous training sessions had shown as much. I should have been on the battlefields already!

Anger, an emotion that had become my constant companion since I had been dethroned, boiled and raged within me. I _was_ going into battle one way or another. No one was going to stand in my way.

I deliberately placed my foot in his path just as he past and subtly began to unsheathe my sword. Father stumbled and parried my attack with one of his daggers in the same instant. Surprise overcame me and I froze just as he swept his blade up into my ribs.

A scream burst from my lips as his weapon bit deep into my flesh. Agony, bright and pulsing like fire, shot through my system and burned as it spread throughout my body. I leapt backwards, forcibly ripping the dagger out of me. The move probably did more damage than the initial wound had but I didn't care: I was drowning in a sea of red fury.

I readjusted my grip on my blade and rushed at Father. As I swung at him my side throbbed and I almost lost my grip on my sword's hilt. Again he blocked my attack with his dagger, but this time he was using both hands to do so. I saw an opening and took it.

The moment my kicked connected with Father's side I heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. He stumbled backwards, gasping with pain. I kicked at him again, managing to hit him in the chest and knock the wind from his lungs. He fell to the ground, his gasps growing more desperate.

I did not care if he was hurt, I was furious and he had become my outlet for that aggression.

I swung my sword down, aiming for Father's head. He rolled just as my sword hit dirt and kicked up, grunting as he aggravated his injuries. The kick hit me straight in the stomach and I fell to the ground, choking as I struggled to breathe.

Father stood, his face just in my line of vision. He held my sword in his hands. I stared up at him. I was afraid of the emotions raging in his calm blue eyes.

My father was a gentle man of very few words. He was tall and heavily built, with silver, branch like tattoos that seemed to claw at his face and made him more intimidating than he really was. He was a ruthless warrior but he had never turned that ferocity on any of his family members, well he had not until now.

In a move too quick for my eyes to follow he swung my sword down and plunged it into the dirt just next to my head.

"Your temper is a problem that I cannot have in my army. Do not bother coming back tomorrow." His eyes were full of disappointment and pity as he said this, but they also held a certain sense of finality that assured me he was not kidding. Without a second look he turned to Lyra and Demetrius, leaving me gasping on the ground.

A new emotion welled up within me, an emotion that dwarfed the small fire of my fury by a thousand fold. Hate. It was the type of hatred that could destroy an empire if given the opportunity to infect the hearts of others. And at that moment it gave me the strength to suck up my weakness and stand.

I felt the destructive flames of the emotion lick at my insides, robbing me of every other feeling I had. Father could not take my warrior status away. I was not going to let him. I had already been robbed of my birthright, my family, and my home. I was not going to lose this too.

I grabbed at my blade, reveling in the feel of holding cold metal, and wrenched it out of the ground. As I rushed at Lord Cassius, for until he revoked my discharge he was not my father, I felt the sparks of my magic breaking free from its imprisonment. A slight itch of fear worked its way down my spine and I almost paused in my attack but the hate quickly extinguished the weakness and urged me forward.

The moment I was in range I swung my sword so that it sliced a path straight down Cassius's spine, bone appeared where skin and cloth had once been. The image of it should have disturbed me, should have set my insides to churning and my throat to burning as blood began to bloom from the wound but I felt nothing. I was numb with hate and I was not going to stop until he gave me what I wanted.

His pained screech was wasted on me. I heard nothing besides the whistling hum as my blade cut through the air.

When I brought my blade down for a second blow I was stopped by another blade, Cassius's blade. I did not think as I pulled a dagger from my belt and stabbed at my opponent, I just did it. Another cry flew from his mouth as I sunk the smaller blade into his stomach.

Cassius dropped his sword and clutched at his side, obviously suppressing the fatigue that showed on his face. The hate roaring within me kept the sympathy I should have felt from interfering.

Without any empathy to stop me I could have fought until the world came crashing down around me, but I wanted to end this quickly. I had one goal and the only way to achieve it was to force Cassius to surrender to my wants.

I kicked him in the place I had already broken bones, forcing him to fall backwards and pressed the tip of my sword to the hollow of his throat.

"Take it back." I hissed, my voice barely recognizable to my ears. "Your _wife_ has already taken everything from me. I will not stand for losing this too."

He simply lay there and stayed silent, his eyes staring up at me. I could read every emotion that tumbled in their calm blue depths: anger, surprise, disbelief, and the heaviest of all: fear. Lord Cassius was just as terrified of me as Lady Alarice had been. It was something that only made me pity them.

They were my parents. They were supposed to accept me under all circumstances. And yet they hated me, they hated what I was and feared what I might become.

He had not just discharged me because of my temper. He had discharged me because of how he viewed me. Cassius was no better than the Council, the group who had robbed me because of the magic that swam through my veins.

This knowledge of my father's feelings drained me of everything. I was numb with the implications of my revelation. My father had always been a very accepting man; I had believed that he had loved me as fiercely as my mother had hated me. Obviously I had been fooled and knowing of this ultimate lie, this betrayal sent a shot of pure, raw agony racing through my system.

I removed my blade from his throat and stepped away from the queen's consort. The pain made it hard to think. Hard to take in just how much damage I had caused the area.

My magic had broken free without my noticing and was currently blanketing the training grounds in a thick, black fog that even I was beginning to choke on. Lyra and Demetrius lay a few yards away from where my father was bleeding, they were wrestling to keep a hold on what remained of their lives. I could feel their energy being leeched away, could feel my body replenishing itself with their life forces.

Along with their energy I could feel my father's. His pain was my own, and when he breathed I felt his ribs slide and scrape against muscle and organs. On top of the moving bones there was a fire growing from the spot where I'd stabbed him, an inferno that seemed to be eating him from the inside out. My dagger had actually punctured his stomach and now its contents were spilling into his body.

It was a sick sensation, knowing that I had caused him such harm and that in some twisted way I had enjoyed hurting him. I could not deny that I had felt a satisfying sense of pleasure when I had seen his blood bloom from the wound on his spine and when I had thrust my dagger into his abdomen.

A coldness spread through my veins, it made my body shake and my stomach churn. I felt it burn its way up my throat and suddenly I was on my knees, puking up what little I had had all day. How could I have done this?

When I felt Lyra and Demetrius finally giving in to the escape my magic presented I rose to my feet and called my power off. It obliged instantly, I felt a certain smugness emanating from it when the black fog returned to my body. It was full. Almost overwhelming me with the energy it had devoured and it was happy that my prison for it had not held.

I felt the need to vomit again. A small part of me believed that in doing so I would free myself of my curse but the rest of me was not convinced.

My legs began to shake, I was tired but I was not going to collapse where anyone could find me. Before my resolve could give out I began to walk towards the woods, if I got lost then there was no way I could ever hurt anyone like this again. I would not be able to kill anymore. My body strengthened with the thought. If I became lost in the woods then that was it, I was deaf to the whisperings of the green giants and my people would not come looking for me. Not after this.

My magic would starve without the power of my people around to sustain it and it would turn on me. It would kill me like it had promised to do so many times before. And if it did not then the barbarian werewolves would probably hunt me down and rip me apart. My people had destroyed hundreds of their kind, if they caught my scent they would end me and I would finally be free of my curse.

Before I could reach the edge of the forest, the beginning of my end, I was stopped. Silas stood before me. His spring green eyes were watching me warily. I probably looked a mess.

From the feel of things I was covered in blood, its cloying presence was caked on my skin and clothes. The hair that had fallen out of the braid I usually kept it in was run through with dirt and leaves. My eyes were more than likely wild with desperation, and though I hated to admit it, fear. I didn't want to die but it was the only escape I could think of, no one was going to help me after I had all but murdered the king.

"Sienna? What happened?" He asked as gently as possible, I still jumped at the sound of his voice. My body shook as I tried to keep myself from breaking down. I found that I could not speak.

Trapped within my own head, alone save for the delighted hisses that were gushing from my magic. Concern welled up in my brother's eyes. He had never been able to be angry with me no matter what destruction I caused. To him I had always been a precious and fragile individual, I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone and he knew that.

He wrapped his arms around me, humming a tune in an effort to calm me down. "I can see that you need time to think." His voice was soft and gentle, giving me promises of comfort. "Go to Grandmother's house, I will join you after I have cleaned up this mess. Tell no one where you are going and stay off of the trail."

His orders were a soothing caress to my ears. I would listen to him. Silas had never let me down before and I had never had any reason to disobey his commands. His unwavering compassion towards me prepared me to stand on my own.

The moment he let me go I ran for the trees, blocking out every other thought with the simple effort of moving myself forward. Silas would make everything better. I had no doubts of that.

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Review.

_Aurora of the Light_


	6. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

I was jittery and nervous as I navigated my way through the woods. Silas had ordered me to stay off the trail, a feat easier said than done. I could not hear the directions that the trees sighed to the wind and I could not head back on to the trail, someone might see me, which would be very bad.

_If you lose yourself among the giants then it will be all over_. _I'll feast on your pathetic life and gain permanent control over your body_. My magic had been hissing such promises since it had first activated itself. I could ignore it easily, but I still felt the need to argue.

"If I become absolutely lost then I will set myself on fire. What will you do then? There will be no body to possess and you will cease to exist right along with me." My voice came out as a hoarse cross between the screeching hisses of my magic and my own voice. It was an unnerving sound that sent shivers of panic coursing down my spine.

Gooseflesh covered every inch of my body and I felt the overwhelming need to run, to run so fast and so far away that I could escape my own skin. As my body tensed for me to do just that I lost my footing and fell to the ground. Acting on instincts alone I held my hands out in front of me to keep from landing face first.

My knee collided with a large stone that ripped it open and my hands scraped against a large, coarse root as I rolled on to my side. I could feel the warm liquid presence of blood as it trickled from my knee injury. My hands throbbed as I registered the small cuts and gashes that my fall had inflicted upon them.

Since my situation could not possibly get any worse I stayed as I was, lying on the ground covered in blood, dirt, and a number of minor injuries that were beginning to awaken with complaints. I watched the trees, the large guardians of the forest life and immortals in their own rights and in turn felt like I was being watched. It was a cold sensation that started at the base of my skull and moved forward so that my eyes tensed with suspicion I did not completely feel.

Giving in to my body's incessant want to be right I scanned the woods in front of me, unwilling to shift and check behind me as well. My gaze swept over every inch of the area that I could see, not a squirrel moved without me being aware of it. I was just about to shrug it all off when I saw something concealed by a thick sapling that stood a hundred feet away.

The leaves of the plants rustled slightly, almost breathing with whatever hid behind its generous branches. I caught a glimpse of fur as white as new fallen snow and froze. The name of the large creature clung to the tip of my tongue but I was unwilling to admit what it was. I would not believe that their existence so close to my home was even possible.

I raked my eyes across the area again, double-checking in case there were more barbarians lurking in the bushes. Just my luck there were six others hiding near the first. Sharp white teeth were spread wide in a hungry grin that made me want to scream until my lungs caved in. I could hear their claws raking up dirt as they pawed the leaf-covered earth.

Werewolves.

The word sent a shot of adrenaline pouring through my system. It burned like white fire as it consumed me. It swept up all of my body's complaints in a blazing inferno that robbed me of every other thought. It urged my limbs to move, urged my feet to run. I would have listened and I would not have stopped until I was halfway to the Roman Empire if it had not been for one little thing: the white wolf.

It had stepped out from behind its hiding place, an action that sent another, almost painful rush of adrenaline through me. The black tips of its ears, the only other color to its fur, swiveled to and fro as it tried to decide how it felt about me. One second it would be defensive, ears flat against its head and muscles tensed and ready for attack. The next it would be curious with its ears held forward and its head tilting just slightly.

I watched its ears as it approached. I was unable to bring myself to meet its eyes for fear of what I would see there. My body itched for me to start moving, the erratic pounding of my heart in my chest swallowed my ability to hear but I stayed where I was. I was vulnerable and at the complete mercy of the wolves. They knew it, I knew and yet they did not attack which struck me as odd.

Growing up I had been taught that all werewolves were blood thirsty and mindless killing machines. They did not love. They simply mated and multiplied like rabbits. They killed without justification and would destroy us if we did not do so first.

I had been taught to hate them as barbarians and yet here I was, running from my people and trying to appease a wolf so that it and its pack did not kill me. The wolves' hesitation had thrown me completely off balance. They were supposed to kill everything in sight. They were not supposed to spare me. What was going on?

I had also been taught another thing when growing up: when unsure of a situation attack. Acting on that lesson I wrenched one of five silver hoops in my right ear free and threw it at the beast's head. It flinched and whined, but some flimsy piece of silver was not going to do any real damage.

Unable to resist I stared straight into the eyes of the wolf. Those eyes…

I lost all train of thought, all sense of the adrenaline rushing through me when I met the ice blue gaze of the wolf. It stopped advancing as if it too had been paralyzed. The world slipped out from under me and I was falling, tumbling towards something I did not care to think of.

My vision went absolutely black and I screamed, afraid that I had lost consciousness or that the wolves had killed me. In Terra's name what was going on?

As soon as the name of my goddess had run through my thoughts I stopped falling and was suddenly in a room of mirrors. I watched a million reflections of myself as they turned with me, I glared at them and they glared back. For some reason I found the duplicates disturbing, there was something entirely off about them though I could not place what exactly it was.

I really glared at them then, trying to figure out what was making gooseflesh rise up all over my body. My bright, blue-green eyes glowered back at me from the nearest mirror, looking as dumbfounded as I felt. I traced a finger over the intricate, silver 'leaves in the wind' tattoos that began at the center of my forehead and framed my eyes, where they began their descent down my face and disappear under the collar of my white blouse.

I ran a hand through my bone straight, waist length, dark auburn hair and pulled it over my shoulder, still unable to pin down the reason behind my unease. I turned my attention from my hair to my face then, resisting the urge to break every mirror in the room. I slapped myself, hard enough to leave a bruise on my so-called 'gorgeous' face. If this was a dream than I wanted to wake up as soon as possible. My cheek throbbed as the bruise faded out of existence, groaning I ran a frustrated hand through my hair and that is when I realized what was wrong.

Silvery streaks, the same color as my tattoos had appeared in my dark auburn hair and I was completely free of the layer of blood I had acquired over the last few hours. I pulled at a silvery strand, my magic growled then as if I had awoken a bear from its winter slumber. My new look was tied to my curse? I felt the need to slap myself again. I was in a dream sequence caused by staring into the eyes of a wolf I had never seen before. Speaking of which, how did this tie in with the beast?

I sighed. The sound became nonexistent the moment it left my lips. What in Terra's name was going on?

A woman's soft laugh drifted through my 'dream,' the sound reminded me of a summer night and made my hair stand on end. An image appeared in the mirror as the laughter died. I whipped around before the figure could fully materialize, my sword drawn.

Before me stood a woman who had the air of someone that could crush me if she was so inclined. Snow-white skin contrasted dramatically with her floor length, midnight black hair, the night sky seemed to be trapped within its grasp. She was dressed in a dress almost as black as her hair. I did not dare meet her eyes.

She stepped towards me. I danced away. My back collided with the mirror. It shattered, its shards imbedded themselves in my back.

"Oh, dear," Was I all I heard before the world went black.

I was falling through nothing and that scared me. Another scream ripped through my throat as I returned to reality. Before the forest appeared before me I could have sworn that I caught a glimpse of the wolf's human form.

Without the fur and teeth he was actually quite attractive. A pale skinned young man with ink black hair and the ice blue eyes of the white wolf. There were three claw-like scars that ran over his left eye. He was taller than my five foot seven inches by an easy half a foot and he was probably one of the most muscular men that I had ever seen.

_Two strangers destined for one another_. A female's voice, the same woman I had seen, as dark and mysterious as the night whispered. I knew that the wolf-man had heard it too because he startled and glared at me like I had bitten him.

The blackness, the mirrors, the woman, and the young man all disappeared as quickly as they had come. The forest rushed up to greet me and I felt the lurking ghost of unconsciousness writhing in my system. My eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. I struggled to keep them open.

The white wolf was staring at me, a certain inkling of concern evident on his face. My back felt warm and wet, like I had just stepped into a hot bath. A thick trickle of the thing on my back rolled down my shoulder and tickled my skin as it dripped on to the ground. I tried to move, tried to lift my hand so that I could touch the thing on my back.

Pain lanced through me every time I moved, making my eyes water with tears that would not come. I noticed that the other wolves had gather around the white one, they all stared at me with a certain amount of panic in their expressions. I dropped my gaze to the ground and there I saw a grim pool of crimson creeping through the dead brush.

Blood.

The realization of what was happening hit me like a slap. I was bleeding to death and the wolves were going to watch. In Terra' s name! How could they do that? I was defenseless, why were they doing nothing? They should at least have had the decency to end me.

I screamed at them, an action that made my back pulse with agony. I begged them to just end it. I did not want to suffer. They all just looked at me like stupid animals, their heads tilting to the side in unison. I cursed at them

I felt unconsciousness take hold of me before I could finish cursing their blood, words that my magic saturated with power. Blackness blurred the edges of my vision. My eyes drifted close, agony pulled me towards the welcoming shadow of death. I could feel myself slipping from my body. I was crossing over into the Realm of the Gods, where all of the dead lived out the rest of their days.

As the last bit of vitality began to slip from me I felt the stinging ache of a slap. It pulled me away from the end and brought me back to the agony my body presented. I opened my eyes slightly, sunlight blinded me but I could clearly see the face of the young man. He said something before he slapped me again, but I could not hear it I was too absorbed in the sheer agony of my still bleeding back.

My magic, the only lively thing in me, screamed its anger at the boldness of the stranger. Its protests pulled me further into awareness. I felt a migraine beating at the inside of my skull.

The stranger's words came to me then, a small phrase that made no sense to me. "Hang on." We were at war, what did my life matter?

* * *

The whole bleeding to death thing 'cause she backed into a mirror doesn't make a whole lot of sense but just go with me on this one, kay?

Review.

_Aurora of the Light_


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